CHAPTER THIRTY TWO
Tampa, Florida
January 3rd 2021
Roger Coffey paused, waiting for Joshua to hang up.
“OK, Roger?”
“Thank you Bradley.” Coffey replied.
“Are you OK to meet up at 2? Can we do meeting place number 3 today, I have to get some groceries and the wife will kill me if I forget. I can pick them up on the way back.”
“Sure, 2 o'clock, I can make that. Anything new?” Coffey looked at his watch as he planned how much sleep he could get before the more important matters of the day.
“Yeah, we're pretty excited by this but I won't spoil it for you.”
“Sounds great, see you at 2 then.”
Roger hung up and disengaged the bulky mobile phone device before stuffing it in his jacket pocket.
Sporting a thick beard, shaggy hair and dark sunglasses, Coffey could easily be mistaken for a vagrant as he sat in his dilapidated vehicle, a wreck of a old Chevy. It was his home for the time being and afforded him the ability to keep on the move and provided the most modest of shelters. Parked on the summit of a hill overlooking the city, it was dark and very cold. Coffey reached back and flattened the seat as far as it would go and placed his loaded Glock pistol on the passenger seat next to him. He closed his eyes and folded his arms across his chest in an effort to retain some body heat. He envisaged himself back in his king-size bed, at home with his Bulldog, Buzz snoring and grunting loudly next to him. He even missed the globular puddle of drool as he rolled over in the morning but certainly did not miss the disturbing flatulence of the barrel shaped companion. The car was silent, almost too silent for his tastes and it was very dark under the overcast skies.
Like many others affected by the crisis, he wanted his old life back, and a time when things were still simple. His single ray of hope was the friendship he had built with his loyal comrades. They given him purpose and a reason to continue the fight.
Roger Coffey had met Bradley Vandenberg and his associate Chuck Thomas in the most delicate of circumstances. Bradley and Chuck had pursued Coffey for a number of days like many others, however their motives were purely benign. Without Bradley and Chuck, Coffey may still have been living in the Kissimmee National Park, barely surviving in the harshness of the winter period.
Bradley and Chuck were intelligence officers working for the CIA. Formerly part of a team of analysts monitoring clandestine organisations and practice amongst the better known societies such as the Masonic orders. They were positioned well to receive information which might be useful in vetting political players and monitoring the jostling for power which happened on a day to day basis both at home and abroad. Many of the orders, both historic such as the more famous Illuminati and Knights Templar and the new were often more about myth than reality. Their semi religious activities were often pompous, tradition based meetings where the ever changing hand shake or sign would gain admittance. They were exclusive hierarchical clubs, often borne out of the University scene and more often than not, although strong in their ideological beliefs, were generally harmless.
Bradley Vandenberg and Chuck Thomas were an integral part of the team which began to investigate a new, separate and highly secretive order in the spring of 2019. A distinct group of people from the elite of the world's nations were gradually being tied into an investigation which had began from the seeds sown during a financial report into the affairs of three of the world's largest oil companies. From the ashes of a lengthy investigation from which economic investigators had drawn blanks, suddenly an intriguing series of connections were beginning to flourish between discrete players across the world who had no business being connected with each other. The revelation that a then US presidential candidate was one of these few sparked a series of high level meetings and seemed the perfect spark to ignite a blaze of enlightenment. It was however, to Bradley and Chuck's amazement and outrage that within days, the team was disbanded and they were transferred to another unit tracking religious cults along the eastern seaboard. To the curious agents, this was an unprecedented move which seemed incongruous to previous agenda's. They smelled a rat and unlike others who might voice their disgust, they had agreed to keep the outrage to themselves and use their resources when possible to continue their previous work.
Such was the impact of their decision, if they had not, then Coffey would surely not have been alive to feel the chill of the January air as he snored loudly in the seat of his car. Through the covert monitoring of several key players within the organisation including their old boss Kyle Schultz, Bradley and Chuck had ensured that they had acted on intelligence which suggested that the fugitive Coffey had taken refuge and had been spotted on satellite imagery at Kissimmee. Fearing that a valuable resource could be lost, the agents had ensured he was in the wrong place at the right time.
Coffey was aware that despite his situation as an outlaw as uncomfortable as it was, it was perfectly tolerable as opposed to his friends ongoing problems. They were on the inside and were taking daily risks to ensure Coffey could act on any information gathered. They even secured telephone communications to England at great personal risk to themselves. They were driven individuals and true patriots.
Roger Coffey awoke at first light, the red sunlight tore into the car and ended any chance of an extended slumber. He slept when he could, never knowing when he would have to move on. He had faith in his friends to warn him if there was cause to but he knew very well that they could be discovered at any time, time that was fleeting. Despite his relaxed demeanour with his English acquaintance, there was little time afforded to push on with his quest.
Meeting place number 3 was a small lay-by off the beaten track and without the unwanted gaze of nearby CCTV cameras. Coffey found it difficult to fill his day when he knew he had a meet up later that afternoon. He had the radio for company for what it was worth but he grew frustrated with the endless propaganda. It crazed him that the public were buying the lies, it enraged him and encouraged him even more to do his duty to expose the myth.
By 2pm, the air was warm and a glorious rosy sun hung low in the sky. Coffey waited patiently in the agreed place for the familiar black GMC pickup that Bradley drove and was heartily relieved when the dust from the horizon proved to be kicked up into the air by the wheels of his friends truck.
Bradley was of average height, blonde and balding on top. He spoke well, a Harvard educated man, he was a formidable ally. Chuck was a smaller, squat individual with a nervous laugh. His jet black mop covered a rounded face and bushy eyebrows. They had proved themselves to be technically brilliant and thorough in everything they did. Coffey spent little time in small talk before reminding them both to be careful. He genuinely feared for them knowing the calibre of the opponents they fought to expose.
“Your beard is growing well!” Bradley exclaimed as it seemed to get more pronounced every day.
“Sure is, when I look in the rear view mirror I keep reaching for my gun. Can't recognise my own God damn face any more.”
“We have some pretty exciting news.” Chuck said as he leaned against the pickup truck attempting to look casual.
“OK, let's hear it.”
“Well you know we've been looking in to the top brass at NASA to see if we could dig up some dirt. Turns out that when you look a little further down the chain, and I mean to the hardware and software engineers connected with the project...”
Chuck was still trying to play it cool but a small amount of white spittle was collecting at the corner of his mouth as he relished the release of his revelations. Bradley took the opportunity to butt in during a brief hiatus when Chuck took a deep breath.
“Roger, it turns out that you're not the only one who has disappeared since the red dawn. We've already uncovered two engineers who have recently had unfortunate accidents and a software developer who tragically appeared to take his own life last Tuesday. Seems that suicide is a trend that's catching on at Kennedy these days. Four further em
ployee's were also reported as missing persons or failed their Censure, which you and I know means they are six feet under right now.”
Coffey nodded thoughtfully.
“Seems like the guys at the top are tying the loose ends whilst the confusion reigns. I wonder if the remaining project workers know that they are on the hit list?”
“Bingo!” Chuck blurted out impatient to reveal more.
“That's the good part. We've been trying to trace the remaining staff who had the Prometheus project on their records. There aren’t a whole bunch of them left. By the way, the Prometheus project isn’t mentioned anywhere by name but we've worked out through a process of elimination who was working on which dates which apply to the project correlating that with the missing or deceased individuals...”
Coffey nodded impatiently.
“As it happens, it turns out that one Mister Gino Marchegiani, a forty one year old engineer and resident of Orlando has gone AWOL and has turned up on the FBI's Most Wanted list and his details have been distributed through Interpol. Boy he must have done something real bad to be joining those bad boys!”
“He knows something.” Coffey added summing it all up succinctly.
“All very useful but if the might of the CIA and the FBI can't find this guy, there isn't much hope for us.” Coffey viewed the news with a half empty cup. Bradley smirked at Coffey in a knowing, smug way and Coffey laughed as he realised there was yet more to the tale.
“The reason why they don't have this guy is simple...he's CIA.”
“This is starting to get complicated now.” Coffey sighed. Bradley continued to enlighten the tired astronaut.
“Marchegiani is an undercover agent who was deployed at NASA in a totally unrelated investigation. He was schooled at MIT and majored in Physics before going on to do a PHD in Astrophysics. He never finished his doctorate, the CIA got their claws into him early. I pulled his record, it turns out that he was due to be withdrawn because he excelled so damn well while at Kennedy, he just got drafted on to another more complex project. Looks like whoever employed him didn’t do their homework on him or just got unlucky. Your about to pull the biggest con job in the history of the world and you employ an undercover agent to help build your Doomsday device. Not very smart. I thought all you NASA guys were smart?”
“Nah.” Coffey replied trying to comprehend the news.
“If he got wind of the deal why didn’t he expose the plot before the launch. He had plenty of time?”
“Don't know. Maybe his exposure would have hurt people on the inside, maybe he was just slow on the uptake....who knows. Thing is, he's out there and like you my friend, he's a walking time bomb to the government's ambitions. I guess maybe they don't see you as being so volatile and capable of exposing the truth? After all, you have no categorical proof that the red skies were related to the Prometheus satellite. This guy helped build the fucking thing.” Bradley was passionate and his voice full of emotion. Coffey stared at the dusty ground and kicked a decay clump of leaves.
“Find him. Get him to me. We can piece it together and then find a way of getting it out there credibly.”
Coffey was excited but not optimistic in his request. Both Bradley and Chuck stifled a nervous laugh at his request.
“Well, you know the whole world is after this guy. I do have a lead though, one that might be kind of useful.” Bradley had a sly grin and Coffey could tell he had been patiently waiting to deliver the coup de gras.
“Marchegiani's real name is Adam Letterman. Well let's just say that I knew an Adam Letterman a long time ago, I met him on a residential training course. The only reason I remember the guy's name is because on a night out he introduced me to his sister...”
“Who you dated no doubt?” Coffey smiled at his charming colleague.
“Indeed.” Bradley quipped with a broad grin on his face.
“So what happened?” Coffey inquired.
“Oh, the usual. Two months of crazy sex and then the arguments over the toilet seat, the TV remote and the like.”
“So she'll remember you then?” Coffey asked hopefully.
“God I hope not.” Bradley laughed.
“Just so happened though that she lived just outside of Jacksonville. She was a homely girl, not the sort to move around. Probably still there with any luck.”
“And you think she might know where her brother is? That's a long shot.”
“Long yes, but beggars can't be choosers.”
Bradley was right, it was a slim lead but a good one. It stood to reason that the government agencies would already have spoken to her or maybe even taken her in but it was worth the risk of exposing himself in order to have a fighting chance of discovering the whereabouts of this man.
“Can you put me in touch with her?” Coffey asked as Chuck pulled out a scrap of paper.
“Cell phone, land line, address, email, bra size...it's all there.”
Coffey raised his eyebrows at his friends efficiency.
“Probably better for you to get in touch with her, If she's in contact with her brother she's not going to trust a CIA agent asking questions let alone an ex boyfriend who refused to mow the lawn on demand.”
Coffey slapped Bradley across the shoulder.
“Damn, you're a heart breaker.”
CHAPTER THIRTY THREE
The Messenger, Fleet Street
January 3rd 2021
Joshua was in the office early that morning. He wanted to beat the rush of disheartened employees banging their desks in frustration as they realised their vocation was being radically altered by Jameson and his cronies. Although he did not have an appointment, he wanted to consult with Mr Fernandes on an urgent matter. A meeting with Fernandes was not something which ordinarily one would yearn but this morning, Joshua would be quite insistent to see his employer face to face.
Waiting nervously in the reception area to his chamber, he greeted Miss Penny, Fernandes' friendly assistant as she walked in clutching a handbag and a nicely decorated paper bag full of what could only be her boutique sandwiches.
“Oh, hello. What are you up to?” she asked nervously.
“I need to see Mr Fernandes first thing. As soon as he gets in.”
Miss Penny's mouth puckered as she realised the intensity of the fidgeting Joshua's request.
“Not something serious I hope?” She asked politely.
“Well, yes it is. I need to see him before Jameson's lot get in.”
“Oh I see. OK, well you can wait there but you know what Mr Fernandes is like.”
Indeed he did.
The large, opulent gilded clock struck eight thirty and almost to the second, Fernandes shuffled in clutching a grand leather briefcase and a long black coat over his arm. He stopped to look down at Joshua who was obviously anxious about something. He did not speak as expected but merely walked towards his office and waved a beckoning finger.
Joshua stood and followed him inside the magnificent office where his boss silently pointed towards a large leather chair.
“Thanks for seeing me Mr Fernandes.” Joshua spluttered as he perched on the edge of the seat. Fernandes flopped down behind his vast dark wood desk and leaned back, his hands flat on the table.
“Spit it out then.” Fernandes bellowed. Joshua took a deep breath, he was not sure how to proceed.
“Sir, as I know you are quite aware, the whole dynamic of the office has changed. If I may be so bold, the new measures will destroy this newspaper and everything it stands for.”
Fernandes leaned forward interrupting.
“Going to jump ship are you? You'll not find anything better anywhere else and that's a fact. All the same it is, the whole street are facing the same problem. Get over it, you'll have to or you'll get your marching orders.”
“Well, with all respect Sir, I feel that it's somewhat inevitable anyway. I don't believe there is any room for a journalist like me whilst the paper is governed by Jameson and his cronies.”
Fernandes laughed.
“Well, that's something you did work out for yourself. Have to suck it up you will and make yourself useful. Ride the waves until the storm dies out.”
Joshua took another deep breath.
“Speaking of the storm, it is my opinion that this is a spell of bad weather that isn't going to go away any time soon. In fact I have rather a unique perspective on the matter and have acquired information that might prove significant on levels that cannot even be imagined.”
Fernandes turned the corners of his mouth down.
“Found a scoop have you son? If I were you I’d save it for a rainy day because you're not going to get it into print any time soon.”
“No Mr Fernandes, It's something which won't wait. Something that could have major consequences across the country, something that has to be shared amongst the people.”
The Prometheus Effect Page 20